For Today We Cry, Tomorrow We Live
by HeKillsWithHisSmile
Summary: Rose dies after the birth of their child, and the Doctor is left alone, heartbroken, and a single parent to an impossible child. With the help of Jackie, he gives his daughter a normal, human upbringing as best he can. He never tells her about the other half of her heritage, but 16 yrs later he realises that the time has come to tell her the truth.
1. PROLOGUE

_**A/N: I've had this written down in a plan for a while now and I've just finished the prologue. Initially, I was going to wait, but I'm impatient and wanted to get this out as I'm super excited about this story! It's emotional, I warn you now. I don't know how long it'll be - I'll go through the plan and see what I've got. Been a while since I looked at it.**_

 _ **This is only short since I didn't want to dwell too much on this part of the story since this isn't what it's about. This is a story about the Doctor and his daughter, but this chapter is needed in terms of a bit of background.**_

 _ **Like I said before, I'm worry for the bad summary, it's not an easy story to summarise in so little characters.**_

 _ **WARNINGS: possible triggers as this chapter deals with losing someone immediately after giving birth. Like I said, the rest of the story will focus on the Doctor and Ever 16 years after this chapter takes place so this should be the only warning of this nature.**_

 _ **Please let me know what you think and if it's worth continuing!**_

* * *

To whom we lose in death, may they live in others we love

He'd always remember how he felt when she told him. He remembered a cocktail of emotions running through him the moment the words had passed her lips. Joy, fear, worry, love; all of which flooded his veins in equal measure. He was going to be a father again; or, at least, he had the opportunity to become a father again. Nothing ever ran smoothly for them.

They had been together for a year – married and bonded for just three months of that – and just getting to this point hadn't been a straight forward journey. The species difference between them had meant that him even admitting to her how he felt had been a tremendous challenge. He would outlive her and losing her, he knew, would hurt. So for years he stopped himself from getting too close, only to finally realise, after having come seconds away from losing her, that it would hurt him more if he kept his distance.

But now, his biology differing from hers had come back to haunt him. She was pregnant. Human and pregnant with his – a Time Lord's – child. It wasn't safe. It could kill her.

And so he told her.

He had mentioned it before; told her that they couldn't ever have children. In actual fact, he had always been under the assumption that she would never even be able to fall pregnant with his child, but by some miracle she had. But in doing so, it meant she and their child were in danger.

However, he knew that she wanted this and, truth be told, so did he. He wanted this child – this impossible child – and when she firmly told him that, despite the risks, she was keeping it, he had discovered that there was a chance of them coming out of this unscathed.

Of course, at first he had been reluctant and it wasn't until she had pointed out that this child would allow him to have something of her after she was gone, that he finally allowed his joy at becoming a father again win out. The worry never really left, but he didn't let it overpower.

To both their astonishment and relief, the pregnancy went smoothly and anyone would have been fooled into thinking that the worst was over and that there was nothing now to worry about – not since she was due any day now. They had allowed their worries to lapse, but it wouldn't have mattered either way. Nothing they could have done, worrying or not, would have prepared them fully for the final outcome.

She only went into labour a few days early, so neither of them had suspected that anything was yet wrong. It was only after the birth of their child – a daughter; Ever they had called her – that the worst made itself known.

She'd fallen unconscious after her husband had taken their daughter from her in order to clean her up and make sure she was fine. He was about to pass her back, telling her that there was nothing wrong when he realised she was no longer awake.

Panic had rushed through him then – hit him like the wave from a tsunami. He knew that she had been tired – expected it, after all – but she was also very pale. Too pale.

It had been in that moment that the realisation of what might happen dawned on him. She had bleed out; the strain of the birth having caused her to lose more blood than either of them had expected.

He tried everything.

But nothing worked.

It hadn't been until he had tried everything he could multiple times that he let himself stop. There was nothing more he could do. Her heart had stopped, her skin grey and pale. She was gone.

His daughter cried out – almost as if she could sense that something was wrong. He looked over at her and it hit him. How could he manage this alone?

He went over to where she lay in her cot and swallowed down the tears that hadn't fallen. He couldn't do this; he just couldn't.

He left her with her grandmother, who was still distraught after the loss of her daughter, telling her that he needed time. That he couldn't do this, not now, not without her.

And for two months he ran. It was what he had been doing his whole life, running. He ran away from the pain and the heartache that he had endured over those last couple of months and he ran from the responsibilities that he now had. He ran and he ran until he could run no more.

Then one day it had hit him. No more running. It was finally time to stop. He needed to be a father to his daughter who had lost her mother before she had even known her. He made his decision and, two months after he had left, he returned with the vow to be the type of father his daughter Ever Rose (a middle name he had given her upon returning in memory of her mother) that she deserved.

After centuries of looking, he had finally found his purpose in life.


	2. ONE

**_A/N: Finally, we're off._**

( _ **All mistake are my own and I own nothing)**_

* * *

 _Sixteen years later…_

The Doctor sighed as the door to his office clicked shut. It was the end of his office hour and he needed a break.

Taking off his glasses, his resting his elbows on his desk and rubbed at his eyes. It had been a long week; his students were asking him questions about their up and coming assignments and he wasn't sure how much more he could take before he burnt out completely. It didn't help that Ever's birthday was coming up, which was an event of mixed emotions for everyone. Whilst they did all they could to celebrate, himself, Ever and Jackie, the day would always be tainted by Rose's death. Even after a decade and a half, it hadn't gotten any easier – at least not for him.

He looked at the picture on his desk. A picture of himself and Rose taken not long before she found out she was pregnant with Ever. How much simpler things had been back then. Even now, his mind still ached from the bond that had snapped when she died; always trying to reach out to something it could never find. A part of him always wondered what would have happened if she had never fallen pregnant, would she be here today? Or would something else have gotten in the way of their forever. Another part of him quickly dismissed any such thoughts. He didn't blame Ever for what had happened; he could never do that. Oh, he had wanted to at first, but she was his daughter and the only thing he had left of Rose. Of course, there was Jackie, who he still regularly saw, but Ever was so much like her mother. So much so that it was often a painful reminder of what he had lost.

Sniffing in a way to bring him out of his thoughts, the Doctor tore himself away from the photograph and put his papers in his bag. He still had a few lectures to give before he could go home, but right now, he needed lunch.

On his way to the main campus food place, he couldn't help but look around at the buildings he walked past. He had been teaching at this University now for over ten years and it never failed to amaze him that he had managed to spend so much time in one place. He had thought about leaving, finding something new; had even considered going back to UNIT since he hadn't dealt with anything non-terrestrial for years, but he stayed because this was Ever's home. This was where he had brought after he had made a promise to look after her. He had surprised even himself when he had told Jackie that he would be staying on Earth to bring his daughter up; had been even more surprised when he decided to leave the TARDIS in the shed in his back garden. He had sacrificed a lot that day, but despite everything, he was content, if not happy with the life he was now living. His past not known to anyone other than Jackie – not even his daughter.

"John, are you coming to the end of term dinner next Friday?" His colleague, Sandra asked as he sat down at the table with a few of the staff members from the Physics department.

"I can't make it this year, Sandra," the Doctor asked. "It's Ever's birthday that day and she'll want to do something."

Sandra smiled. "How old is she now?"

"Nearly sixteen," the Doctor replied picking up his fork and stabbing it into his pasta.

"Blimey, feels like yesterday you were telling us that she was off to secondary school."

"It's certainly flow by, yeah," the Doctor replied with a ghost of a smile.

He said nothing for a while and let his colleagues talk amongst themselves. It wasn't until one of his other colleagues, Mike asked him if he was okay that he realised how quiet he had been.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, I'm fine."

"You sure, mate? You're very quiet this afternoon."

The Doctor rubbed at his eyes. "Just tired I suppose," he said. "What with the end of term coming up. That and Ever's birthday and the anniversary of her mum's death fast approaching."

"Can't imagine it gets any easier," Amanda said.

"No," the Doctor agreed. "No, it doesn't."

…

Ever sighed as she looked up at the clock on the wall of her History classroom. Today had dragged, even more so than usual.

Thankfully, it was almost lunch time; a break from the monotonous lessons she had been enduring since ten to nine that morning.

She wondered what the point was. She already knew all this stuff. Had read it when she was younger out of pure curiosity. That was what leaning she be, she had told countless people throughout her school life. Learning shouldn't be all textbooks and exams, but rather a way of quenching the thirst for knowledge that everybody had. Make them sit exams and they lose interest. Especially if they already know the content like the back of their hand.

Sighing again, she recalled what her father had told her about these exams being important for her future, despite agreeing with her whole heartedly. Ever knew that her father was the reason she had such a thirst for knowledge; that she was incredibly intelligent for someone who wasn't yet sixteen years of age. Her father was a brilliant man, who had intelligence far superior to those he worked with in the University he lectured at but, for some reason, never decided to move on. Ever was fully aware that there were universities elsewhere that needed people of her father's level, but he always said he was content with where he was.

The bell brought Ever out of her thoughts and she began to put her things back into her bag. Shrugging on her school blazer and pulling her bag onto her shoulder, she made her way out of the classroom, seeing her friend James waiting for her outside his classroom door opposite hers.

"Hey, Ev," James smiled at her as she approached.

"Hey," she smiled back. "Ready to brave the lunch queue?"

"Man, I've been ready since period 2," he laughed, hoisting his rucksack up on his shoulder. "How was History?"

"Oh, you know, same old," Ever replied as they began to walk through the crowds of people coming out of their classrooms. "People killing people, Politian's being shitty to the people they're supposed to be governing for their own personal gain. Oh, but the 1960s sound like a cool period if you're our age. I like reading up on the popular culture of that time."

"If you had a time machine, I'd bet that's where you'd first decide to go."

"'Course," Ever grinned. "Where would you go?"

James thought for a moment as they continued walking towards the canteen. "I don't know," he said finally. "Maybe the future. Everyone wants to know what the future will be like."

Ever nodded her agreement and the two of them walked for a few moments in a comfortable silence.

By the time they had gotten their food, the rush had died down somewhat and they were able to find a space to eat relatively easily. It wasn't long before the rest of their small group arrived.

"Hey guys," Sarah said as she sat down next to James, her girlfriend Anna sitting opposite her next to Ever.

"Hey," Ever replied. "How were your lessons?"

Anna groaned, "terrible," she replied. "I don't think I've got a hope in hell's chance of passing this maths exam this year. I can't go on to Sixth Form without it."

"I've told you that I'll help," Sarah told her. She had been telling Anna this since they had started their GCSEs, but Anna had always been stubborn and hated giving in, even when she needed the help offered.

"I know, but I really want to do this on my own." She turned to Ever and James. "How about you guys?"

Ever swallowed the mouthful of food she had and was about to answer, but James got their first. "Well, Ever wants to travel back to the 1960s."

Sarah laughed. "How very Sc-Fi," she took a swig of her water. "Hey, did you catch that show the BBC did on time travel the other night?"

Ever nodded. "I liked it, I thought it was interesting. But it was hard to enjoy when your father has a habit of muttering the word 'wrong' under his breath every five bleeding minutes! This is what I get for being the daughter of a university lecturer."

"A very clever one at that," Anna remarked. They all knew exactly how intellectual Ever's father was. It was no secret since Ever was almost as brilliant herself. That, and he was known for being the top lecture in the country. In fact, Ever thought she remembered hearing that he had been considered the top lecturer of all time. But it wasn't something that was brought up a lot at home.

Thinking about her father again made Ever remember what was coming up. Not only was her birthday fast approaching, but with it came the anniversary of her mother's death. She had never known her mother, but her father missed her tremendously and it had always been a tough day for him to get through. She knew that he tried to put on a brave face for her sake, but she had always been able to see through the cracks of his façade; a trait that, according to her dad, she had picked up from her mother.

Putting the thought aside for now, Ever focused on her lunch with her friends.

They were only half way through lunch when they were interrupted.

"Haven't seen this freak in a long while."

The four of them turned their heads to see a boy of their age coming up to them. His uniform almost as unkempt at the rest of him. Ever recognised him immediately. She had been at Primary with him, but hadn't seen him a lot since coming here. She thought he had gone to one of the other schools, but apparently he had either been kicked out or she had just managed to avoid him for nearly five years but, knowing him in the way she did, Ever assumed it had to be the former.

"What do you want, Josh?" She asked heatedly.

"What? No 'hello'? No 'haven't seen you in a long while'? Just 'what do you want'?" Josh put on feigning hurt, but there was an evident laugh behind his words.

"Yes,"

"You've never been any fun, have you?"

"No,"

Josh sighed dramatically. "Is that all I'm gonna get from you? Just one word replies? Well don't let me keep you from your friends. Though, if I'm honest with you, I never thought I'd see the day that Ever Tyler made friends. Thought you were always a lonesome one – thought you preferred it that way. Either that or everyone you met just freaked out when you told them your 'special medical secret'. Bit freaky that, if you ask me. Have always thought so," he looked at the other three at the table. "Has she told you? I'm guessing by your blank faces she hasn't. Well, I won't say another word about it. But, I'll let you know this now, she's a freak. Even science can't explain her condition."

The three of them on the table looked at Ever in confusion and Josh just smiled almost triumphantly.

"I'll leave you now, looks like you've got some talking to do." Josh left after that, smiling all the way as he made his way out of sight. Ever watched him go, feeling ashamed and angry all at the same time.

When Josh was finally gone, she looked back down at her food, trying to ignore the stares from her friends. No, she hadn't told them about her 'condition'. She had never felt the need to. That, and it was incredibly difficult to explain, especially when she couldn't even explain it herself. Even her father tried to avoid the subject all together, always telling her that he didn't know what it was despite having the same condition as herself. Some kind of genetic mutation he had told her at one point and then offering her no more explanation.

Josh had found out accidently at Primary school when she had been five years old. She had accidently mentioned it in class before her teachers told her to stop being silly and her classmates had laughed at her. Josh had been the only person who had, strangely enough, not laughed at her and she had proved it to him when they had gone out for playtime. However, as soon as he realised she was telling the truth, something in his five-year-old mind must have freaked out since, from then on, he had called her a freak and decided that it was some 'freaky medical condition' that science couldn't explain. He had used it to torment her throughout the years she had been in Primary.

Ever since then, she had told no one. Her dad even telling her that it was best not to tell anyone, since no one would believe her if they did.

Because like her father, Ever had two hearts, and she would be damned if she let anyone else use it to make her life a misery.

…

The rest of the day passed by without much to add. On his way home, the Doctor couldn't help but let his mind wander to what he had said to his colleagues earlier in the day. Ever was sixteen soon – had it really been that long? He rubbed at his temple, the constant ache that lived with him every day a reminder of just how long it had been. He was amazed at himself for being able to continue for this long without losing it completely. Sure, there had been times when that had certainly seemed like a possibility literally only around the corner, but he knew that it was because of his daughter that he had managed to get this far. It sounded soppy and hopelessly cliché, but it was true. Ever was the sole reason as to why he was still here; why he hadn't just flown away in the TARDIS like he had almost done; why he hadn't given up when all he had wanted to do was just that.

He was brought out of his thoughts by his mobile ringing through the car speakers. Noticing the caller ID, the Doctor sighed and pressed the button on his steering wheel to answer the call.

"Hi Jackie," the Doctor said.

"Well hello to you to. Why have you been ignoring my calls lately?" Jackie Tyler asked down the phone line. Even without her being right in front of him, the Doctor could see the look on her face.

"I've been busy," he replied. Technically it was true, even if he had really been ignoring Jackie's calls because he just didn't want to be constantly reminded that it was his daughter's sixteenth soon and that they had to go up to hers around that time.

"Clearly," Jackie said. "Anyway, I wanted to ask if you've thought about what you're getting Ever for her birthday yet or even what you're going to do."

"I haven't yet, no."

"You realise you don't have a lot of time, right?"

"Yes, Jackie I am well aware. I'll figure something out, I always do."

"I know you do," Jackie agreed. "Why don't you take her out in the TARDIS, I –"

"—No, Jackie. I'm not doing that," the Doctor's tone was final. It was the same every year: Jackie would suggest that he should take her on a trip in the TARDIS and the Doctor would have none of it.

"She is nearly sixteen years old, don't you think it's about time that she knew?"

"I'll decide that, Jackie. I'm her father."

"You think I don't know that?" Jackie's voice was just as firm as him. "What would Rose say if she were here, eh? She'd hate that you're keeping half of your daughter's life away from her."

"Yeah, well, Rose isn't here, is she?" The Doctor said, harshly. "Because if she was here then we wouldn't be having this conversation! The same conversation that we've had for the last decade and a half!"

Frustrated and angry, the Doctor ended the call, not knowing Jackie's reply. He came to a red light and stopped before putting his head on the steering wheel and trying to calm himself down.

He knew he had been too harsh. He wasn't the only one whose life had been affected by Rose's death. Jackie had lost her daughter for crying out loud! and yet, he was the one who was still struggling to let go and move on.

A car beeped from behind him and the Doctor lifted his head, realising that the lights had now changed and he was causing a traffic jam. Setting off again, he sighed. He knew Jackie was right; he knew he needed to tell Ever everything he hadn't yet, everything that he was still so desperately trying to hide from her for some reason or other. It had been so long now, that he was started to wonder if not telling her had been worth it or not. But, with each passing year, it was getting easier to keep up the lies – that the TARDIS was really just an old collector's piece he had picked up years ago, and that the second heart was just some kind of genetic thing – the longer he left it, the harder it became to let go of the truth.

…

"Ever, you back yet?" The Doctor called as he walked through the front door. The house was unusually quiet for the time of day. The television wasn't on for starters.

"Ever?" He made his way up the stairs and towards his daughter's room. Her door was shut and the Doctor could hear the muffled sound of music coming from within.

He knocked on the door and when he received no answer, he slowly pushed the door open and peered inside.

Ever lay on her bed with a book in her hands, staring up at the pages above her. Her small CD player was playing quietly on her nightstand. She barely acknowledges her father's presence until he came and sat down on the edge of her bed.

"What's up?"

"Nothing," Ever replied, still staring at the same page in her book.

"Ever," the Doctor warned. He knew something was up. He knew his daughter well enough to know that something was bothering her, no matter how well she tried to hide it. Apparently, trying and failing to hide one's problems was hereditary.

"Joshua Clyndall now goes to my school," Ever said, putting down her book and sitting up on her bed.

"Ah," the Doctor nodded, knowing exactly why this piece of information bothered her daughter. He was well aware of the things that had happened during her early school years and, while none of it was properly serious, as in, he had never physically bullied her, his words over the years had been more than enough to stop her from being able to make friends and wanting to go to school some days.

"I thought I'd escaped him after Year Six," Ever sighed.

"Did he say anything to you?" The Doctor asked.

"Yeah, called me a freak as usual," she sighed again. "The last thing I need now is for him to go around the entire school telling everyone about me. He knows I have friends, he saw me sitting with them at lunch, and he knows that I haven't told them about the genetic thing. I don't want him to make them think I'm some kind of freak."

"You're not a freak, Ever," the Doctor told her. "And besides, is he really that petty?"

"You know he is," Ever gave her father a pointed look.

"I'm sure if it does come out, your friends won't turn against you," the Doctor promised her. "If they're really your friends then something like that won't bother them."

Ever said nothing, though she knew her father was right.

"Maybe I should have told them before," Ever ponded. "Though it's not something that really comes up in conversation, is it? 'Oh, by the way, I have some weird genetic mutation that means I have a second heart.' It doesn't affect me doing anything, so why mention it?"

"I understand, believe me I do."

"What did people say at your school?" Ever asked.

The Doctor swallowed. He wasn't sure how to answer that. At his school everyone knew, but no one ever mentioned it because everyone was exactly the same. His school hadn't been on Earth but on Gallifrey.

"They never really found out," the Doctor said. "Like you, I didn't bother telling anyone because I didn't need to."

Ever nodded, then changed the topic somewhat.

"Dad, where did you go to school?" She asked. "Only, you've never really spoke about it. You told me where mum went, but never you."

"My school was quite far away from here and, believe you me, I couldn't wait to get out of there," the Doctor explained briefly.

"Tell me about it," Ever said. "The sooner I leave, the better."

There was a pause between them for a second before the Doctor made to get up, giving Ever an affectionate squeeze on the sofa before he did.

"Tell you what, I'll go make a start on dinner, eh?" He said. "How does Toad in the Hole sound with banana pancakes for afters?"

Ever grinned at him, her smile so much like her mother's. "Sounds perfect!"

"Alrighty then, I'll let you know when it's ready," he walked to the door before turning back. "Ever, honestly, don't worry about Joshua and don't worry about what your friends think. They've been with you since you started that school, I doubt they'll back away now. Plus, you're older now. Trust me, everything will be fine."

"Thanks Dad," Ever smiled at him and the Doctor smiled back at her before leaving her room and pulling the door up.

Once outside the Doctor sighed to himself. Yes, he believed that things would be alright with Ever. But he couldn't help but feel bad that she still didn't know. And with her question earlier about his own schooling days, he knew it wouldn't be much longer before she started questioning everything he had avoided telling her over the years. Maybe this year would be the year he told her. He just really didn't want to open that gate of questions and memories he had spent years trying to hide from.


End file.
